GobSmacked82

Here it is, shippers. I'm back from my writing 'break' of sorts. This finishes the 'Perfect Gentleman' convo.

KC and WH get back to her suite, and find it empty. Whitney finds a note from Boooby and reads it, becoming emotional. KC watches her quietly.

WH: (Crushes the note.) Boooby got a call from a producer. Somebody who is somehow connected to Mary (J. Blige). They are going to sit down and talk about collaborating.

KC: The meeting is right now?

WH: (nods) At a club downtown. I'm not sure when they'll be back. Could be three, four hours, or until they close the place. (let's the note slide out of her hands onto the table)

KC: Well, what are you gonna do? Wait for him all night?

WH: If I have to, yes. Why shouldn't I? I'm his wife. Anyway, men need their own hustle, you know? It's not like what people say. He's not Mr. Houston or anything.

KC: Well, shouldn't he at least wait until the morning? (Gestures to her belly)

WH: (Shrugs) It’s done. He’s gone, and he’s not coming back for now. He might as well get something out of it. And at least I can have some peace and quiet for one night.

KC: I don’t know, Whitney.
WH: Let’s drop it! My assistant laid out my pajamas and slippers. I’m going to change, so … (she gestures to the door)
KC: Oh! Sure, thing. I’ll wait here in the living room. You go on back and let me know when you’re done.
WH: You’ll wait at your own hotel.
KC: Not letting you wait up for your juvenile delinquent all by yourself. Nope. You won’t even let me take you out or anything. And you deserve it—

WH: Why should I be riding around with you in your car, with my married, pregnant, tired self. Please! That’s not even reasonable. (Walks over to him and grabs his elbow.) Now say goodnight, so I can turn in, please.

KC: Women in their second trimesters usually have lots of energy.
WH: Oh, then all the better for me to flip you over, with.
KC: Oh, for ----- sake, Whitney. (removes her hand) Here’s where you and I are really different. I hate self-torture. If people piss me off, I get rid of them.
WH: Am I getting on your nerves yet?
KC: If you didn’t turn me off with your pre-Bodyguard procrastinating and hand-wringing, then you never will. We’re like that couple who survives the big fight while they’re engaged. You can’t shake me off now; not if I know you need me.
WH: I don’t need you … like … that much.
KC: Only a lot. Give me two hours. If you get another call by then, I’ll be gone before the tabloid muckrakers can catch me sneaking out of here.
WH: (Takes a deep breath) Alright. Two hours.
She goes and changes. Meanwhile, KC orders a light snack from room service. WH comes back looking bundled up and regular on her robe and cushy slippers. KC is on the couch flipping through movie options.
KC: Nice try, with the robe and all. But you’ll never ever look drab in your life. Come sit here. (Pats the cushion next to him.)
WH: It’s not about you, you know, Mr. Costner. I’m plain tired and want to relax.
KC: OK. I said I’d be a gentleman.
An hour later, Whitney and Kevin are on the couch in the living room, watching a movie. The Preacher’s Wife! Whitney is stretched across his lap, bowl of popcorn in front of her. But Kevin’s bouncing between being bored to death and agitated.
KC: Why does he have to keep after her like that? Pest.
WH: He’s an angel. He has a mission, but he sort of bungles along the way and falls for the wife. You know this.
KC: (Sighs) I can’t believe the studio and you, Whitney, went in on this stuff. It’s practically NC-17. There are kids around. He keeps pawing her!
WH: What are you talking about? He’s holding her hand, and that’s it. If her clothes were anymore conservative, she would be in a burka.
KC: Why is she looking at him like that? Kinda ruins the whole ‘angel’ M.O., don’t you think? That’s a Jedi mind trick that guys use on girls. ‘I’m an angel. It’s not bad. How could it be bad? I’ll show you Heaven if you let me—’
WH: Settle down, please. Nothing creepy is going on. It’s chaste, and it’s like they’re brother and sister, really.
KC: My @ss! Look at how he’s holding her! I don’t believe this.
WH: They are ice skating. How come you see an HBO after dark thing going on, and they’re ice skating out in broad daylight? (Sighs and rolls her eyes) You men are all the same. All the same, and I don’t care if you’re black, white, checkered or striped or polka-dotted. You all think you got here first and there will never be another one like you after.
KC: Fake angel. Trying to de-frock the preacher’s wife; that’s what this movie is about. I’m surprised you weren’t thrown out of the church for this.
Whitney covers her face and shakes her head. A little while later, they’re going through newspapers and magazines, well Whitney is. Kevin’s hand keeps going in her hair.
WH: Stop that! (Slaps his hand away) I asked you for a neck rub. You’re messing up my hair.
KC: What’s the difference? You’ll just have to do it in the morning, right?
WH: Man, you don’t have a clue. Black hair takes time. I have a hairdresser who doesn’t appreciate other people messing … (slaps his hand) up … (slaps) my hair. Quit it!
Whitney moves her head. Kevin’s hand follows. This turns into a joke for a few minutes. Some more time passes, and Kevin is setting up the CD player.
KC: I like this song. A lot. (Holds his hands out to her. It’s ‘Your Love is My Love’. So they start dancing.) Explain something to me, Whitney. I have a question.
WH: Go, baby.
KC: Why do people accuse you of not dancing right? You’re smooth with me.
WH: That’s because ‘those people’ expect me to do the degrading bumpin’, grindin’, knock me up, give me a disease kind of dancing. And Whitney don’t need to do that.
KC: If they could see you now.
WH: They would call me all kinds of names. Like my business is not in the street as it is. That’s the good thing about you and me. Nobody knows. Nobody sees. We’ll be dead and gone before they suspect a thing. That’s cool with me.
KC: That’s against the plan.
WH: What plan?
KC: I’m going to tell everyone I know how special you are. If they’re smart, they’ll piece it together.
WH: If you run your mouth, I will come find you.
KC: It’s a deal. (Spins her.)
They fall out of that dance as the next track starts playing.
KC: Are you going to be at the next Oscars?
WH: If the song is nominated. Sure; I guess.
KC: (Nods) Then I’ll see you out there.
WH: Yeah, we’ll see each other.
KC: You going to the after parties? (Smiles wide)
WH: I don’t know. Wipe that look off your face, please. You will not be getting any play. Point blank, period.
KC: I just think it would be fun to see you, that’s all.
WH: (Imitating him) ‘That’s all.’ Next morning, there’s pictures, headlines and scandal.
KC: My personal life stays under wraps as much as possible. You give me too much credit, anyway. I’m not a player. I’m just a guy who happens to—
WH: OK, see. Now you have to come clean. (Lowers her voice to a whisper) See, regular guys sitting in their house in L.A. don’t talk girls out of their clothes over the phone in Singapore. That just don’t happen in everyday life. I have to be on my guard with you next year. I’m on my guard with you now.
KC: It’s not that bad, Whitney. You make me sound like more than I am.
WH: You’re pretty dangerous sometimes. We’ve um, ‘slipped up’ a lot.
KC: No we haven’t. Be serious. Now I’m the one telling you to be serious, for a change.
WH: Well, there was the initial disgrace after ‘rehearsal.’
KC: I just recovered my hearing from that, you know? I’ve never had pillow talk like that in my whole life, ever.
WH: The blunder in 1995, then the stuff over the phone while I was on tour. It’s getting a little crazy. We need to pull back.
KC: Are you breaking up with me? I knew it! It was the hair stuff right? I went over the line? Black chicks hate it when you mess up their hair. Got it! Let’s rebuild, Whitney, rebuild.
WH: We are not ‘breaking up!’ You’re stuck with me for life. But we have to cool it with the bare booty stuff. And it’s really getting very late. As much as I hate to see you go, well, you know how it is. People are sniffing around me constantly. I hate it.
KC: (Nods) She hates to see me go. Careful, Whitney. You’re going to make my day. My whole month.
WH: It’s true. You’re kind, smart, considerate and you always look out for me. I wish we ran into each other more often. It’s a confidence booster without the guilt. There’s no guilt because, well, you usually get … you know, some sugar out of it. But you can’t have anymore sweets. The shop is closed.
By now, they’ve walked to her door, and KC’s arm is around Whitney’s waist. He can’t really help it. He turns her face toward his and kisses her lightly. She pulls away slightly.
KC: So this for my own good then?
WH: Yes, it is. (Puts her hand on the knob and pulls the door open.)
KC: You’re kicking me out? (He hasn’t let go of her waist.)
WH: I’m thanking my friend for keeping me company. So I didn’t have to rant and carry on and plot revenge and cry myself to sleep.
KC: Kevin’s Handholding Service. We deliver. Coast to coast. I think about you a lot, Whitney, so whenever you need me just call. It doesn’t matter when. If I can get you out of a little black lace over the phone, then a little handholding is no problem.
He hugs her, and they stay there sort of long. But then they pull away and he watches her close the door, winking and blowing a kiss to her right as she shuts it.